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I've had nightmares like this.
One day, you may be walking along a city street, wondering what you feel like having for dinner, and then you see her. HER. Instantly, you know, deep in your soul, you'd like to hack off a piece of that ass and shoved it in your mouth with both fists. Is it wrong to enjoy the flavor of a fallen friend?
You'd feel so proud, wouldn't you, if your 14 year old son brought this vase home from his ceramics class, right? So proud you'd sell it on eBay they day he left for college.
This is sold in boy and girl models either because the manufacturer was insanely optimistic or because customers are insane enough to allow these tissue boxes in their homes. They wouldn't be nearly as scary if their mouths did not resemble anal sphincters.
There's a lot more kitsch coming your way today/this evening....
These two cards from the 1930s should give you a sense of just how tacky it's going to get around here today.
Then ask yourself this: can a submissive's pink parts ever be clean enough?
Benefits include an immediate improvement in attitude.Bonus: the black, dishwasher-safe rubbery handle is delightfully shaped to offer multifunctionality to the truly depraved at heart.
Miss me? Sorry I haven't been around much but, yeah, well, I killed another laptop. La. To its credit, the dearly departed model lasted longer than any other computer has, and endured more depredations than any other, mainly because the nifty Dell maintenance contract I signed allowed me to get it rebuilt a few times on their dime. But I've always been pretty merciless with my pcs and laptops and sooner or later they all collapse in a nervous tizzy, their motherboards scorched by my relentless appetite to use and abuse them beyond all reasonable limits.
I am speaking about how I treat machines, of course. I'm much harder on submissives.
On the upside, I'd backed up almost all my files, or at least most of the important things. The only big loss was a few days' worth of blog content. Not too bad. Learning to use my new laptop Dell (with new OS, Vista) has slowed down my pace a bit, and I need some new imaging software (PhotoShop for Vista? anyone want to recommend a program? freeware suggestions always appreciated). But hope survives: I know that, one day, I SHALL remember where the delete key is located now.
Meanwhile, it's jolly to have a sparkling new toy to play with and, yes, to ultimately devour and destroy, byte by byte, until it begins blue-screening and coding MOMMY. My pudendal nerve flutters at the mere thought of it.
I'm working on rebuilding image archives, and have a bunch of finds to share today. It's going to be another busy blur of a day but if I can find the time, I want to say a few more things about the raid on the Eagle too.
Kiss kiss darlings. I'm glad to be home. It's lonely out there in laptopless land.
Vampires on TV today are lovable, not dangerous, so there seems to be no need for vampire-killing kits. Killing kits were needed when people were threatened by vampires. Kits have been sold at five or more auctions over the last several years. Each kit was assembled, so the contents varied. Prices ranged from $1,000 on eBay years ago, to $12,000 and $20,300 in 2003, to a claimed $35,000 asking price for a kit eBay wouldn't allow. Last year a kit in an American walnut case sold for $14,850. It held stakes, mirrors, a gun with silver bullets, crosses, a Bible, holy water, candles, and garlic.
This Saturday, October 31, 2009, another kit will be auctioned. It's in a rosewood case with mother-of-pearl inlay in the shape of a cross. The required pistol and silver bullets are in a small coffin-shaped case. There are also holy water vials, a prayer book, a cleaver, and a mirror.
I'll be blogging more about this story this week and its significance to BDSMers. Suffice to say, the Eagle was one of my favorite clubs during the 12 years we lived in Atlanta. I have all good memories of the bar, its staff, its parties, its fund-raisers and educational events, and especially all the incredible support they've offered the pansexual BDSM community in Atlanta over the years. I strongly believe that the Atlanta PD went after them because they are a perceived weak link in world of sexual politics. Nobody ever wants to stand up and defend the rights of leather people to congregate -- except for leather people, and even then, it's amazing how empty a room can be when it's about politics instead of play-time. This is the Eagle's time of need and they deserve our support.
Here is a copy of the letter Atlanta Eagle Co-Owner Robby Kelley just wrote to the Atlanta Pride Committee.
To the Atlanta Pride Committee:As a person who was held on the floor of the Atlanta Eagle, I would like to request that Officer Harris walk in the Pride Parde in her street clothes and not her Atlanta Police uniform. After coming out and saying that APD did nothing wrong, I feel this would be an injustice to our community. As a person taken to jail I find this offensive. Most of you do not know the true horror that we went through that night and that uniform represents all of it.To see gay men kicked, hit, and searched with no reason is wrong, and to be made to lay face-down in the floor, and have the officers hi-five each other like it's a party is wrong. To have them say "this was fun we should do this to a fag bar every week" is wrong. And having Officer Harris in her uniform saying that it's OK is wrong.If Officer Harris chooses not to be there in her street clothes, so be it, but that will be something she chooses to do. After being released from jail she was one of the first persons we a saw. She apologized for their actions and then got up and told everyone it was OK. Please.Robby
Grossman pointed me to this opinion piece that appeared in the Southern Voice and it is to my mind a fine example of the kind of snarky drivel that parades as coolness.
I’ll sit this protest out, because deep down I know my behavior at the Eagle on Thursdays was wrong. That’s what made it so much fun. And I believe the APD treated us similarly to straight venues they have raided, albeit with fewer gay slurs. I’m intrigued by the traumatized patrons of a leather bar complaining they were forced to submit to men in uniform for an hour, before being free to go with no arrest or further consequences.
Oh yeah: the guy was doing things that were "wrong" but he won't pay the price: instead the club, which cannot control all the behaviors of all its clientele (any more than any club can police everyone at every moment) is paying...and paying...and may, ultimately, be bankrupted by this bust. Add up the legal fees and the loss of business -- people are staying away for fear the cops will come back -- and the Eagle may never financially recover.
Even worse than the idea that a leather club isn't worth defending, this blogger doesn't understand the difference between people consenting to rough sex for mutual pleasure and police forcing patrons to lie on broken glass. Figures. It's people like this guy who screw up the leather scene for the rest of us. They get away with whatever they can, get their rocks off and leave a trail of misery behind, never learning a thing about SSC, BDSM, or anything else that every honorable leather person knows and understands. Grrr.
But what bugged Dan Grossman the most is not what one snot-nosed blogger had to say about the event but the startling and depressing reality that despite early support, the gay community (locally and nationally) have backed away from the Eagle raid and seem intent on burying it under the carpet. While rank and file around the country understand the import of cops raiding a gay club, with the shadows and ghosts of Stonewall lurking all OVER this story, in other quarters, it seems that leather people remain an embarrassment to the gay community and are a minority they kinda sorta wish would kinda sorta go away.
Read what Mike Alvear of the HuffPo has to say about how local Atlanta gay activists have abandoned the Eagle in Atlanta Gay Pride Committee Throws Eagle Raid Victims Under the Bus.
This day was inevitable and I was prepared for it, for a pleasant change. I literally squeezed the last drops of life out of a 5 year old plus laptop that I wore to death. Kind of a victory, actually. :) Now I just have to learn to use a new keyboard...and...oh, yeah, install stuff so I can read email! Right-o.
Please excuse the interruption. I'll be back to blogging asap.
The first two are most likely 19th century works
The third amazing piece is by contemporary artist, Seth Vandable. I'm showing two shots but hop over to eBay to see it from every angle.
See it on eBay: bronze by Seth Vandable
Given the world of economic shit most of us are in now I thought I'd write a few words about one of my favorite fetishes: used furniture. Call it "vintage" to make it sound chic, or go green and say it's recycled. Either way, in recent years I've become a convert to "rehoming" furniture, knick-knacks, and other household items rather than buying new. Maybe it's my impoverished childhood, or my green sensibilities, but I can't stand the thought of great old stuff ending up in landfills.
Lately I've been seriously redecorating and doing it all the rehoming plan. Flea markets, garage sales, and craigslist are overflowing with people selling off excess to get extra money for the holidays; some people are downsizing just to make their mortgage payments. Vendors on eBay are increasingly willing to give you extra discounts. In other words: opportunities to pick up fabulous stuff on the cheap have never been better.
Somewhere out there someone just got tired of a table you always wished you had, and they're going to try to sell it for peanuts and then send it to the landfill. Last week, I scored a set of six truly gorgeous chairs from a local rich lady who just wanted to get rid of a deceased relative's "junk." I'd been shopping for new dining room chairs for months. We could never have afforded the same quality new from a store. Meanwhile, she was so rich she didn't need the money and already had them loaded on a trailer whose next destination was the dump. I could only hope that the other fine furniture she'd casually listed on craiglist would get snapped up: part of me was tempted to buy it all, it was that cheap and that beautiful.
Recycling also means responsibly disposing of your stuff. I always have a plan for disposing whatever I'm replacing. The curb is not an option. Some busted appliances we couldn't send to a landfill sat in our garage until the glorious day I found a local character who loves to tinker with them. I ask friends if they want to salvage parts from busted laptops or see what artwork they can produce from a broken chair. I try to keep a balance: unless I'm buying something to fill an existing gap, if something comes in, something goes out. And it doesn't go to a landfill. The old saying, "one woman's junk is another woman's treasure" applies.
Reasons To Rehome
1. BETTER QUALITY FOR LESS MONEY: When I buy a mahogany end table made in the 1950s, it doesn't weigh 18 ounces and crack the first time I put a lamp on it like much of that laminated crap from China sold at WalMart. It's made in the USA of solid hardwood, strong enough to last a lifetime -- and it beats WalMart prices hands down.
2. WAY LESS MONEY: I bought that set of gorgeous dining chairs for $65 last week. It was better than an orgasm. Remember that most antique dealers go to these same sources (flea markets, garage sales and craigslist). I don't condone exploiting someone's financial hardship to take advantage of them: however, at least around here, a lot of people sell stuff because they need cash for bills. If buying someone's dusty unused jewelry box means her kids get a better Christmas, I'm all for it. Plus, double cool: I get a jewelry box! (As I did, just the other day.)
3. RESCUE BEAUTY! I love "rehoming" worthy furniture and especially worthy art/artifacts. Retro pieces, carvings, masks, framed prints -- shop at the mall for them and spend huge for crappy reproductions....or recycle originals for a fraction of the cost. Yesterday I scored a lovely little writing desk that cost three times as much at Ashley's. The seller suddenly was being relocated by work: if the piece hadn't sold it would've had to go to a dump by week's end.
4. MAKE MONEY. Throw a garage sale or bring your stuff to a flea market. Post for free on Craigslist. Whether it's a bag of old clothes or a table with only 3 legs, somewhere out there someone wants it if the price is right.
5. PASS IT ON. Go on. Give it up. You'll feel good about yourself. We needed to replace our beat-up sofas, and didn't think we could get much for them, but a local family in need were happy to haul them off for free and put covers on them. Our old microwave currently heats lunch for a kindergarten class somewhere in town. Even cracked dishes and broken crockery, torn-up jeans or left-over fabric might be just what someone needs for a crafting project. Contact a shelter or church in your neighborhood, post it on freecycle or the free section of craigslist, and spread the wealth, literally.